Always Winter - Never Christmas
by Lin-ZB
Summary: Young Jack Frost is still getting used to his new powers when he stumbles into a lovely, wintery country ruled by an imperious queen. She calls herself Jadis, and she can see Jack. Perhaps she can help him.
1. Jadis, Queen of Charn and Narnia

He was not surprised to hear the sound of bells. The snow-dusted woods were so scenic he could hardly expect a young couple or a happy family to pass by the opportunity to view them. What did surprise him was the sleigh skidding to a halt at a woman's imperious command. He pressed closer, through the bushes, and met the ice-cold eyes of a woman dressed entirely in white furs.

"You there," she said.

Jack blinked. She couldn't possibly-

"How long are you going to keep us waiting?"

"You can see me?" Jack asked, pushing through the leaves.

"That is no way to address her majesty, Queen Jadis of Charn and Narnia," a stumpy old man growled.

Jack started – the man was no taller than his waist.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered. He managed to find some semblance of a formal bow – his form was rusty and probably very old-fashioned to the queen's obvious elegance, but when he looked up, she was settling back into her furs with an air of contentment.

"Tell me," she said, "just what do you need such a powerful staff for?"

"Do you even want to know my name?" Jack asked. "Your majesty," he added hastily.

"If you insist," she said coldly.

"My name is Jack Frost, ma'am," he said, inclining his head. It wasn't necessary to do a full bow again, was it?

"Jack Frost," the queen said, "what a curious name. Now tell me, Jack Frost, what do you do with that staff of yours? And-" she looked down and noticed his bare feet "-what manner of creature are you that you do not need to protect yourself in this sort of weather?"

Jack faltered. "Ma'am, I-I don't really know," he admitted.

"You don't know?" the queen asked incredulously. "How do you not know what you use your staff for?"

"The staff helps me work, um, I guess you could call it weather magic. I can make it snow, make it windy – oh, and freeze water. I meant that I don't know what I am, really."

The queen arched one finely sculpted eyebrow. "You don't say."

"Um, I do, ma'am."

"Well Jack Frost," she said in a tone of voice so suddenly sweet and persuading Jack had a hard time remembering her previous intimidation, "why don't you come sit a while with me. It's not every day I meet a handsome, talented young thing like you. Why, I have some magical powers of our own – perhaps we could discuss techniques."

"Oh, no ma'am," Jack said, shying away. "I couldn't- I don't have any sort of technique."

"Nonsense," the queen said. "Even if you are untutored, you must have developed your own methods. And of course, I could tutor you if you so desired."

Jack discovered that he had put his staff behind his back, both hands gripping the uneven wood, and was pressing the staff against the back of his thighs protectively. _Stop that_, he scolded himself. _There's no reason to fear her – she can see you! That's fantastic._

"Well, I-" Jack began, but the queen had changed tracks.

"Of course, we are speaking of the distant future," she said, smiling cloyingly. "Perhaps you would first like to share a meal and pleasant conversation with me." She shifted her furs – Jack realized the seat of her sleigh was lined with the same white fur she wore – and gestured invitingly.

Jack had not eaten anything in nearly a century, having given up on food soon after he realized his new state rendered him immune from hunger. He had also been hard pressed to find good food without stealing – a level he was not quite ready to stoop too, given his aforementioned lack of appetite.

"What would you like to eat?" she asked.

Unbidden, the image of a full pot of stew came into his mind – it seemed familiar, the dent on the rim of the pot and the sprigs of herbs floating on top. "Venison stew, your majesty," he blurted, chasing away the image.

The queen smiled and took a delicately carved copper vial from her voluminous cloak. Removing the stopper, she tilted the bottle so that a single drop of the liquid within fell to the ground. A moment later a similarly decorated bowl appeared, filled to the brim with a stew that looked and smelled better than anything he could remember. Jack began to reach for the bowl, but the queen stopped him with a single glance. The bowl then began to float, and settled comfortably on the seat beside her, where a matching spoon materialized next to it. Jack figured that it was no harm to accept her invitation, and gingerly lifted the bowl and climbed into the sleigh, settling the bowl and spoon in his lap. The queen shifted her furs so that he was more comfortably covered – a needless concern, but one he appreciated in spite of himself.

The stew, when he lifted the first spoonful to his lips, was sublime.


	2. Lessons

The next stretch of time – he could not positively identify minutes or hours – passed in a blur. The taste of the stew in his mouth drove nearly everything else from his mind, and he answered the queen's endless questions impatiently. Had he been paying more attention, he might have noticed how she looked at him with eyes sharpened by greed, how she pressed incessantly on his ability to control the weather. Had he been paying more attention, he would have been wary of her insistence that he visit and study with her in her own home - a castle across the hills.

Unfortunately, he was not paying attention, and he found himself gaping at the high arches of a castle without any particularly clear memory of agreeing to see them. The queen's palace was absolutely covered in snow and ice – spires on towers thrust just as proudly into the night air as icicles hung menacingly down. Jack was being ushered out of the sleigh and nearly stepped on a large gray wolf. He stiffened, readying his staff in self-defense, but the queen gave the wolf a command and he left the boy alone. Jack could have sworn the beast was muttering something insulting as it left, however.

"Now Jack, child," the queen purred as she walked around the sleigh to his side. Jack started and had to force himself not to stare; the queen was tall, much taller than he had expected, and certainly taller than any human he had seen. Unconcerned with his shock, she continued. "You must be tired. I shall have a room prepared for you and you may rest for the night. We will speak in the morning."

"Yes, your majesty," Jack said automatically. He had briefly considered telling her that he did not need sleep, but thought it safer to accept her offer and take whatever time he could away from her presence.

She clapped, and the dwarf who had been driving the sleigh grunted. He gestured for Jack to follow him and he did, glancing backward only once to see the queen looking after him with calculating eyes. He did not look back after that.

Jack spent a very restless night in the palace. His room was opulent and well-furnished. He was sure the bed would have been delightfully warm to sleep in, but he only ever lay on top of the fur cover. Instead, he spent the night feeling uncomfortable in such a small space for a long period of time and wondering what, exactly, he had gotten himself into.

When the dawn came, Jack was greeted by the same dwarf who had taken him to his room last night.

"Her Majesty will see you now," he said roughly.

"Alright," Jack said gamely, taking his staff firmly.

Their trek through the palace was quiet, and Jack itched to fly instead. When they finally arrived in the queen's presence, it was in a large hall with arched ceilings and frosted windows. It was a beautiful room, and the queen seemed to know it. She smiled at Jack's wondering gaze.

"Do you like my dining hall?" she asked sweetly. Jack noticed the elegantly laid table.

"It's beautiful, your majesty," Jack said.

"Do sit," she said. "I can have anything you wish prepared for your breakfast."

"Actually ma'am," Jack said, irrationally embarrassed, "I'm not hungry."

"Nonsense," the queen said. "You must eat."

"Honestly, I'm not hungry. I haven't been hungry in-" he stopped "-in a long time."

The queen's eyes narrowed. "Are you sick?"

"Oh no, your majesty," Jack hastened to assure her. "I just don't need to eat."

She considered that for a moment and then tossed her fur cloak. "Very well then," she said. "We shall commence with today's work at once."

Jack followed her as she swept down her stone corridors. Her strides were very long, and soon he found it difficult to keep up the pace. He started to float, just slightly, hoping the light breezes he was using were not noticeable. The queen turned her head at once to look at him.

"What are you doing?" she asked harshly.

"Flying, your majesty," Jack sputtered, dropping back to the floor as she halted. "I meant no disrespect – I was trying to keep up with you."

"Well, continue," she said impatiently. Jack blinked and called the wind back, lifting himself a few inches off the ground.

"And you use the staff to help you with that?" the queen asked.

"Yes ma'am," Jack said hurriedly.

"Can you do it without your staff?" she asked.

"I, well, I don't know," Jack said.

"Show me."

Startled, he dropped the staff. He fell to the floor and just barely managed to not crash onto his back.

"Interesting," the queen said. "Come, we will continue studying outside."

Over the next few days, Jack demonstrated his abilities beneath the queen's watchful eye. He was not allowed to see anyone else besides her and her dwarf, although he could hear others visiting the palace. The wolves came frequently, bringing reports of rebellion and chaos that he overheard on the wind. He could never spy for long, however, as the queen was alert to his breezes.

It was not until he had been with her nearly a week that the queen first turned someone to stone. A beautiful woman, with hair like moss and skin like smooth bark, had come to beg for springtime, lamenting the loss of her sisters to bitter cold. The queen barely allowed her to finish her plea before lashing out with her golden wand. The poor woman was frozen where she stood.

"Why did you do that?" he cried, swooping down from the high window where he had perched. "She had done nothing wrong!"

"Now Jack," the queen said cloyingly, after a moment of dark rage swept across her face, "don't be upset. You don't know the history of these dryads and their insubordination. She was asking me to change the balance of the seasons – and if I refused, she would have used it as an excuse to start a rebellion."

"Change the seasons?" Jack asked.

"Seasons in Narnia are quite erratic," the queen said. "No one knows their true cycle – this winter had lasted a very, very long time already. Who knows what could happen if I made it end?"

Jack frowned, but ultimately backed off. What did he know about ruling a country?


	3. Never Christmas

A few days after that, Jack was roused from the troubled thoughts that kept him occupied in place of dreams by the sound of bells on a harness. He looked down out a window, startled that the queen would be taking a trip so late, but the courtyard was empty but for the eerie statues that always stood there. He shivered and looked around for the source of the jingling.

To his amazement, it was coming from the sky. Jack jumped out the window and onto the steep roof of the castle, clinging to one of the long spires so he could lean out and look. He scanned the night sky, squinting against the glare of the full moon off the snow – there! A bright red sleigh was soaring across the sky, drawn by six reindeer – much larger than the queen's – and Jack could make out a fur-lined red coat covering the driver.

"North?" he whispered, stunned. Then, "North!" he laughed, waving his staff in greeting. He had not known Christmas came to this strange land; he had thought it separate from the Earth he had come from.

But as Jack was waving, a blast of magic hurtled past him and exploded, knocking North and his reindeer off course. Jack leapt past several towers to crouch on a ceiling overlooking the central courtyard. The queen was there, practically glowing with fury, her golden wand clenched in one hand.

She raised it just as North came around again, hurling Russian curses and explosive snow globes. The queen sent another blast – colder than even Jack was comfortable with – flying towards the sleigh. North evaded that one, and dropped a few more globes for good measure. But at Jack watched, each globe seemed to hit a wall and explode in midair, safely out of reach of the castle. No residue even fell towards it; everything fell along a distinct line as though an invisible barrier had been erected in midair.

"Have you not learned your lesson yet, Father Christmas?" the queen jeered, her vicious shout splitting the dull roar of the explosives.

"No more than you have!" North shouted in reply. "You can't keep me out forever, Jadis. You don't have the strength."

"Don't have the strength?" she shrieked. "Impudent boy! What can you possibly know of my strength?"

Jack had skittered down the roof and swung around several columns to land in a crouch a few feet in front of the queen.

"Your majesty please!" he cried, standing and stepping toward her. "He means your kingdom no harm – he's just trying to give presents to the children."

"You know him?" The queen hissed, taking her eyes off the sky just long enough to fix Jack with a terrible, accusing stare.

"I-of course I know who he is," Jack stammered, but in the moment the queen had dropped her attention from the sky one of North's snow globes had blown through the invisible barrier. Jack and the queen looked up as North gave a wild war whoop and cracked his whip. The reindeer were bearing down on them quickly. Jack thought to hide, but as he moved to duck the queen snatched his staff. Holding it crossed over her own wand, she lifted both and sent a surge of magic racing toward the sleigh.

Jack screamed and collapsed, clutching his chest where the abuse of his magic left a raw pain in the center of him. He was only dimly aware of the flash of light and the queen's furious shriek that followed, but tried to find North in the sky once more. There was no trace of him, roasted by magic or otherwise, so he must have escaped. Jack sank into the ground, curling around his aching heart, and passed out.

When he next came to, he was shackled and lying on cold stone. He blinked and looked around, and discovered that he was still in the queen's castle. She was sitting imperiously on an icy throne covered again by white furs, glaring at him with contained fury.

"Get up," she ordered.

Jack struggled to obey, only managing to drag himself to his knees with his arms chained behind him. His breathing was labored – catching around the pain in his chest, which had not eased. He knelt hunched over, unable to bring himself to meet the queen's harsh eyes.

"You have been hiding information from me," the queen said. "Who are you really?"

"I'm Jack Frost," he said.

"And where does Jack Frost come from?" she asked. "Who does he work for? How does he know that abominable man and his red sleigh?" Her tone was mocking, and Jack bristled under it. He raised his head to answer her, but her terrible eyes frightened him and curbed his courage.

"I don't know," he said.

"How can you not know?" the queen said, her voice loud with anger.

"I lost my memory," Jack said miserably.

"But you remember Father Christmas?" she asked.

"I've seen him around," he said. "I never really knew him personally." There was a moment of uncomfortable quiet at the queen considered every implication of that statement. Jack knew that he should let her break the silence, but he could not himself from saying "He only wants to bring presents so everyone can celebrate Christmas. You don't have to _attack_ him."

The queen's eyes flew open. Jack bowed his head and grimaced bitterly. That had been a huge mistake.

"Maugrim, take this thing to the dungeons," the queen snapped.

"Yes, your majesty," the largest of her wolves growled. Jack had not noticed him, sitting in the back of the room. He tried to scramble away from the beast, but lacking his arms and still hindered by pain he was helpless. Maugrim bit his upper arm and dragged him up to standing, leaving Jack to stumble and cry out at the injury.

"Careful, Maugrim," the queen said meanly. "We wouldn't want our strange little friend here to be hurt."

"Yes, your majesty," he said. He gave Jack's heels a nip for good measure, and both he and the queen laughed as Jack tried to hop away from the sharp teeth. Jack turned to glare at the queen and noticed, for the first time, that his staff was leaning against her throne.

"Hey!" he yelled. He started to run toward it, but Maugrim caught his leg in his jaws and yanked him back. Jack hit the floor hard - a resounding crack echoed through the hall.

"Get him out of my sight," the queen ordered in a voice as deep and gravelly as the wolf's. Maugrim picked up Jack by the back of his shirt and dragged him out of the room, ignoring Jack's tiny whimpers of pain.


	4. Captivity

Maugrim dragged Jack down several flights of stairs until they reached the dungeons. A dwarf met them there and removed Jack's shackles, and then chained him to the cell wall with his hands in front of him.

"Since he don't eat, we won't be needing to see him again anytime soon," the dwarf cackled as he shut the iron bars to Jack's cell. The noise hurt Jack's head, so he only slumped further. Never had he wished more fervently for sleep. But sleep did not come.

Sleep did not come for the next century, as it had not come for the last. Jack had gotten used to not sleeping, but the queen's dungeon was a lonely place. Lacking company, he longed for the oblivion of sleep. Sometimes he would wonder if he actually knew what it felt like to sleep, or if he was just imagining how it felt from seeing so many people over the years do it. He supposed it was a natural function, though, so it was ingrained in him, even if he could not remember it.

Periods of true lucidity, however, were difficult to come by. The ache in his chest that had started when the queen stole his staff did not abate. It was easier to deal with if he allowed himself to fall into a dazed trance, not fully aware of his surroundings or even himself; a kind of limbo where pain, physical or otherwise, felt distant and as cold as the frost he was named for. There were exactly two things that could pull him out of this state, and they were few and far between.

The presence of another prisoner or a guard always drew his attention. No one ever visited Jack – not needing food, there was no need for anyone to enter his cell, especially – and how he hated to even think of it – since he suspected only the queen and a handful of her closest minions could see him. However, the queen had a number of enemies (rather more than Jack might have expected a rightful monarch to have) and sometimes she liked to have them imprisoned before she turned them to stone. They required food, water, blankets, and guards to tend to them. Jack noticed without curiosity that he was not guarded. Not physically anyway; if Jack had more of a magical sense he might have noticed the imprisonment spells surrounding his cell.

The other happening that woke Jack was when the queen used his staff to generate some particularly strong spell. Through this he discovered that he was linked more closely to his staff than he had thought. He could feel when the queen was using his staff, and whenever she called heavily on its power, he would jerk into full wakefulness, curled protectively around his stomach as if that could help him.

It was through this deep connection that Jack came to realize that the long winter the queen had told him was a natural season was artificial. He could feel her combating springtime with powerful blizzards and wickedly cold winds; he could feel it, but had no way of stopping it. That was another reason he tried to stay away from full wakefulness. The more he thought, the more he realized he was trapped, helpless, powerless, useless, nothing. He was nothing more than a convenient source of power. He hated that, and hating that became too much like hating himself, and that hurt.

Jack spent a hundred years that way, dimly aware of the queen using his stolen magic so that her domain would be forever trapped in winter. The moonlight could not reach his cell, so even that companionship – or scapegoat – was lost. Jack was in a dark place when the first hints of change came.

It was such a small thing at first, just the slightest relief of his pain. Jack was unaware that he leaned against the wall with less tension than before, or that he sighed as he did it. He remained unaware for probably about a day, when he stretched out to lie on the ground and his breath came uninhibited. He sat bolt upright, one hand grabbing the front of his shirt and then pressing fingertips into his chest gingerly, seeking out residual pain. There was none.

He jumped to his feet, ready to rush to the bars of his cell and shout for the witch to come face him if she dared, but the chains that bound him to the back wall had not weakened over the years. Jack's head cracked against the floor as he stumbled and could not get his hands behind him in time. He lay still for long minutes, inhaling deeply and cursing everything he could think of under his breath. Then he stood again, cautiously, and got as close as he could to the door.

"Hey!" he yelled. Or, rather, tried to yell. His voice was scratchy and barely loud enough for his own ears. He coughed to clear his throat and yelled again.

"Hey! Anyone out there?"

Unfortunately, his hails went unanswered. He tried again sporadically, thinking to catch someone off guard and elicit some sort of surprised gasp, at the least, but it seemed that no one was guarding his wing of the dungeons. He went back to his wall and slumped against it, staring moodily at his hands.


	5. Spring Awakening

It was another day – so Jack thought, anyway, since it was difficult to keep track of time in a lightless dungeon – before anyone came down his way. He had heard a great commotion earlier, soon after his staff had been released from the queen's power, and now he heard one of similar magnitude. He stood and went again as close as was possible to the cell door and looked out, trying desperately to see what was going on.

The timbre of the noise above him was very different from anything he had heard from the queen's palace so far. There were shouts, but they sounded pleased – joyful, even – but without the malicious undertones that he was used to hearing in this place. Before long, he heard distinct voices echoing in the hallway

"Ugh, what a horrible dungeon!"

"What did you expect?"

"It's not about what I expected or didn't expect-"

And another pair:

"Do you suppose anyone is even alive down here?"

"Could be – we don't know what kind of enchantments the witch could have used."

"Me!" Jack cried once he had fully processed what he had just heard. "I'm down here! I'm alive!"

No one responded. Jack stepped back from the door, eyeing it with a look of dawning horror.

"No," he whispered. "No, come on! They have to hear me!" He was yelling again, and soon the sound became inarticulate as he just tried to be heard. It was of no use. He slumped against the side wall, staring at his manacled wrists. Surely he was not going to be trapped down here. Surely the queen was not the only person able to see him.

He knelt there in shock until a voice came from the end of the hallway.

"Has anyone checked down here?" It was a young girl's voice, with the lovely round tones and crisp consonants of a Londoner, and Jack listened with bated breath.

"No? Well, I shall. Leopard, could you come with me please?"

As Jack watched, a girl and a leopard padded carefully down the dim passageway. The girl carried a candle that sent shadows flickering all down the walls, but she did not seem very unnerved. The leopard was looking around with an air of great intelligence. The girl placed a hand on its sleek back when she stumbled on an uneven stone, and the great beast did not even flinch.

"Are you alright?" it asked the girl.

"Yes, quite. Thank you," she replied, unaffected by the speech. Jack, meanwhile, was making undignified sorts of squawks. The girl stopped just before she left his range of vision and turned to look behind her. Jack's breath caught.

"You go ahead," she told the leopard, and he gave a graceful acknowledgement. The girl stepped closer to Jack's cell, squinting in the flickering torchlight. Jack at first held his breath, but then got a hold of himself and tried to get her attention.

"I don't think handcuffs can do that on their own," she muttered in response to Jack's frantic but limited arm gestures. She did not appear to hear his enthusiastic greeting. "You know, I do believe there's someone in them," she said presently.

"Yes!" Jack cried. "I am!"

She jumped back, nearly dropping her candle and squeaking a little.

"Sorry, sorry!" Jack said. "I'm just- excited, you know. No one's noticed me in here for a really long time."

"Are you in there?" the girl asked. "I think, well, I think I can hear you, but I can't quite see you."

"But you can at least hear me?" he asked.

"I can."

"Uh, well, then I guess I should introduce myself. I'm Jack Frost. It's nice to meet you."

"Hullo Jack Frost," the girl said, curtsying a little. "My name's Susan Pevensie- oh I do declare!"

"What?" Jack asked, looking around.

"You must be so cold!" Susan said. "Your poor bare feet!"

Jack looked down at his poor bare feet, then back at Susan, and began to laugh. "You can see me!"

"Why, I suppose I can!" Susan said, laughing after a moment.

"I'm not cold," Jack said excitedly. "I don't need shoes or anything to stay warm."

"Are you magic?" Susan asked, tilting her head.

"I guess so," Jack said. "But the queen took my staff, so I can't use my magic to escape, otherwise I would never have gotten in here in the first place."

"Oh!" Susan cried. "I need to get you out!" She turned and ran a few steps down the way she had first come. "Someone call Aslan down here quick, please! I've found a boy – he's all chained up and I don't have a key!"

There was a chorus of voices to answer her, and soon she was back in front of Jack. "He'll be down here as soon as he can," she explained. "He's very good at this."

"Who's Aslan?" Jack asked, suppressing a shiver of awe as the name passed his lips.

"Don't you know?" Susan said. "Aren't you Narnian?"

"No I'm not!" Jack said. "I don't know anything about this place."

"Oh! Well, Aslan is, well, he's the true king of Narnia and he's come and overthrown the White Witch – and he's a lion!"

"A talking lion?"

"Why, of course!" Susan giggled. Jack smiled. They talked for a few more minutes, until Susan turned and cried "Aslan!"

Aslan was, indeed, a lion. A shudder rolled through Jack, the kind you get when a warm breeze makes you realize how cold you are. He stared for a moment, and then bowed deeply. When he straightened, Aslan was regarding him with a deeply penetrating and uncomfortably knowing stare.

"You have been imprisoned for much too long," he said, and his voice was a low rumble, just a step above a growl. Jack bowed his head in assent.

"Susan, child," Aslan said. "You should run along. There are others to free."

She looked as if she wanted to protest for only a moment, but then nodded and hurried down the hall. She gave Jack one backward glance and a smile, and he grinned back.

"You may wish to cover your ears," Aslan said. Jack saw the playful gleam in his eye and immediately obeyed. It was a struggle with his handcuffs, but he managed it just as Aslan took a great breath to let out an even greater roar. Jack closed his eyes against the overwhelming sound.

As the roar faded away, Jack opened his eyes to see that the cuffs had fallen from his wrists. Looking around the cell, he realized that every scrap of metal had dissolved. The barred cell door had completely collapsed, and Jack felt a momentary stab of fear at the thought of being truly face to face with a lion. The fear passed, and Jack bowed again.

"Thank you," he said, and was surprised to hear that his voice was choked in his throat.

"You are most welcome," Aslan said. "Now, I believe that there is something in the witch's throne room that belongs to you."

Jack's head snapped up. Aslan smiled as much as a lion could be said to smile and nodded. Jack ducked his head again and hurried out of the cell. His every instinct told him to run, run as fast as he could, but his stiff body protested and threatened to drop him onto the floor if he tried something so foolish. He settled for the quickest walk he could manage, and was quickly guided out of the dungeons by the increasing crowds of magical creatures and animals.

He spared them hardly a second glance; although in days past he would have marveled. In times to come he would marvel again, but a part of him had been captive for too long, and the only thing he wanted was to get it back.

The throne room was a chaotic mess of creatures rejoicing at their newfound freedom, and Jack found the smile on his face growing bigger as he danced his way around them. He got to the witch's throne and saw his staff resting against it. He scooped it up with a gleeful whoop, and then he was soaring above the heads of the assembled creatures. He was barely able to contain himself until he was out of the castle. Once entirely free, he called the coolest of the spring breezes to bear him skyward until he could barely breathe. Then he allowed the wind to go and plummeted to the earth.

No one saw Jack swooping and diving above the White Witch's castle that day; no one but Susan Pevensie, who could not spare the unusual boy much of her attention in the rush of the day; and Aslan, who, of course, knew that Jack was in no danger. Once the initial thrill of ecstatic freedom wore off, Jack saw the entire celebratory group in the castle move off to the west. He flew down just above them to follow, curious to see where they were going. Susan and another girl, younger even than her, were clinging to Aslan's back as he led the entire long procession.

He was stunned when they arrived at the battle.


	6. The Lamp-post

It looked like a slaughter, at first. The White Witch had left a trail in horrifying statues and frozen carcasses, but around her raged hordes of creatures that Jack had never known existed. They were awful things, beings from his nightmares and scary stories told on cold nights. Her army crashed against another, composed of creatures equally unbelievable. But this second army was smaller, and it looked like they were retreating.

Retreating, that is, until Aslan and his company crashed into the fray. The sheer force of it rallied the smaller army and drove the Witch's back. Aslan leapt immediately on the Witch with a roar that deafened even Jack, floating high above the battle.

After that, the battle was short-lived. The Queen's minions panicked and mostly fled; what few remained were slain or taken prisoner quickly. Jack drifted down slowly, weary of the blood-spattered creatures celebrating their victory.

He spotted Susan hovering around the entrance to a tent with a boy who looked remarkably like her. He was not too much taller than her, but he looked a great deal older. His face was white and his hair slicked with sweat; Susan was helping him remove plate armor and delicately trying not to get blood on her clothes. Jack settled into a tree near them and watched solemnly.

"Peter, this is awful," Susan sighed, tugging on a leather strap to loosen an armguard.

"Well, look on the bright side, Su. At least it's over," the boy replied.

"Is it over?" she asked. "You saw how many of her creatures escaped. Who knows what they'll do? We'll have to spend ages tracking them all down."

Peter grinned unexpectedly. Jack started - he really was not that much older than Susan.

"You're thinking like a queen already," Peter said.

Susan made a face at him. "Well we can't just leave Narnia like this, can we?"

"No, you're right. And besides, there is the prophecy to think of. The four thrones at Cair Paravel and all."

They fell quiet, pondering heavy thoughts, and Jack could see the weight of it settling on their shoulders. Susan briskly finished pulling off Peter's armor and set it out on the ground. They began to clean it together, pulling supplies from a nearby bag.

They were not finished when a beaver waddled out of a nearby tent and called to them.

"Is he better?" Susan asked urgently, crouching down to drop the armor she was holding. She and Peter were looking at the beaver with the same tense expression and dissolved into the same exhausted relief when the beaver said "Your brother's fine. You can come see him now."

They went into the tent, and Jack could hear happy conversation and angry scolding that dissolved into laughter and probably hugs. He wanted to join in, but that was a family gathering that he had no place in. And, unspoken, was the fear that Susan would be the only one who could see him. So he remained in his tree, turning his gaze to the rest of the camp.

He had not been watching long when he saw the youngest girl – that he now knew was probably the sister of the three in the tent – come hurrying towards it. She was tucking a small, finely crafted bottle on a chain beneath her shirt, and Jack was startled to see that there was blood on her hands. She pushed into the tent just as her siblings were coming out, and nearly crashed into a boy Jack had not yet seen.

"Edmund!" she cried, laughing and nearly in tears. She wrapped him in a massive hug, which he returned. They spun around as the elder pair watched, smiling broadly.

"Jeez Lu, you'd think I almost died or something," Edmund joked.

"Oh don't tease her like that!" Susan said, as the Lu in question pulled away from her brother to make a face.

"Sorry Lucy," he said, but the grin on his face would not lessen.

"You are forgiven," Lucy said primly. Then she laughed again and pulled him into another hug. Peter and Susan joined in this time, and the four of them clung to each other until a messenger called them away.

Without anything else to do, Jack followed them to the edge of the battlefield. Aslan was waiting for them, and Jack hung back in the trees, still overawed by the Lion's presence. Some great ceremony started, but Jack only vaguely followed it. He was preoccupied with watching all the fantastic creatures – centaurs and unicorns and talking animals of nearly every variety – along with what he has assumed were trees until they began moving. After that, Jack decided it pertinent to remain on the ground.

The rest of that day, and the next passed in a whirl of pageantry and celebrations. Jack followed the joyful procession to a beautiful castle perched on a peninsula on the coast. The Pevensie children were crowned as kings and queens on four thrones that seemed made for them, and Jack was blown away to hear mermaids singing from the open door to the sea.

He lost interest in the ceremony after the siblings were crowned, and so he drifted out the door to get a better look at the mermaids. Susan glanced at him as he passed, but he did not notice her smile softening in the chaos of the hall. The sea rippled with the splashing of the sealife – more than just mermaids – and the bright sunlight of the day. Jack breathed in the salty air, and, suddenly taken with the spirit of adventure in a new land fresh with spring green, gave a great whoop and flung his staff to catapult himself into the blue, blue sky.

* * *

He caught a cool freeze blowing across the forest and soared across the Narnian landscape. The spring trees loaded the air with vivid scents he had all but forgotten, and Jack, intoxicated with the scent, whipped through the sky like a tornado. Narnia was a spectacular land, full of rushing rivers, clear lakes, lush forests, and rolling hills topped with meadows of flowers. Jack swept through all of it, delirious with freedom. He was careful not to touch anything, utterly unwilling to bring back any trace of winter to the long-awaited spring.

The landscape changed gradually as Jack neared the mountains; leafy trees with budding flowers became dark pines, and the groves were interspersed with lichen covered boulders. Jack landed on one of these boulders gingerly and was pleased to see that he did not produce any ice to show it. He then lay flat on his back, panting with exhaustion and exhilaration.

For several hours he lay there. The sunlight on his skin felt glorious, and the mountain air, fresher than fresh, made him feel almost as if he had never been imprisoned. It was delicious, just to lie still and know that he had the freedom to move if he wanted to. He nearly fell asleep – his thoughts slipped into idle contemplation of his surroundings, and he lost any sense of himself. The vibrant sunset drew him back, however. Once he noticed the deep reds creeping over the edge of his vision, Jack felt something change. He had been resting long enough. It was time to go.

He wandered Narnia again, but now he was searching. For what, he had no idea. But his flight was slower, more contemplative than wild, and he was able to truly examine the scenery beneath him. He noticed oddities; a beaver dam with a smoking chimney, a rocky hill with a door built into one side, and then – to his great surprise – a lamppost in the middle of the woods. It was this last object that really caught his attention. Jack swooped down into the grove surrounding the post and landed easily beside it. He knocked the post a few times with his staff; the clear ringing in response told him that it was indeed a metal post like the ones he had seen in the big cities.

"Where did you come from?" he murmured, circling the oddity. A thought struck him as he noticed a thick cluster of pines at the edge of the grove. He eyed the patch wearily for a moment before jumping into a gust of wind and flying over the close-growing pines. There appeared to be nothing special hidden in their branches, but Jack still felt that he was missing something. He dropped to the ground and pushed into the thicket, but all his got were scratches for his trouble. Frustrated, he pushed the branches aside with his staff and leapt into the air.

He flew straight up before settling and turning to look back at the puzzling forest. The forest, however, was not there.

Jack was looking at an old estate house, comfortably sitting in a rolling green countryside and surrounded by immaculately managed gardens. He blinked and fell down a few feet before recovering. How had this happened?

He blinked again; the house was looking awfully familiar. He thought that maybe he had seen it before, somewhere, but he had not gotten a very good look. A window on the upper floor was open, and Jack drifted towards it, thinking to peek inside. And then he remembered; he had been trying to look into that exact window when he had knocked his staff against the frame and fallen inside. But when he fell, he did not land on the wood floor he had seen inside. No, he had landed in a snow drift in the middle of the woods.


End file.
